Everything You Are
by katn1p
Summary: How can the girl on fire ever truly adjust to family life with the boy with the bread?   Even after the birth of her two children, Katniss struggles to find peace, and continues to question Peeta's undying love for her within the rebuilt District 12.
1. Chapter 1

"_Everything you are." The sound of those three words resonates in my mind as I watch the interview on the screen above me. Peeta is there alongside Caesar. Their natural rapport keeps the audience rapt, but it's obvious that something is different. We're no longer the star-crossed lovers of District 12, we're the two that could never be, the tragic love story doomed to a horrific end. There is no Seneca Crane anymore, no one to bend the rules. It is certain that survival for one means death for the other._

I lurch awake, my clothing sticking to my body in sweat. I feel around next to me. He's still here. _Always_. After all this time, I'm still not used to feeling him next to me, I'm not used to him protecting me.

I'm moving too much and I feel him stirring. He opens his eyes slowly, blinking as he adjusts to the dim light of the early morning. "Katniss," he whispers. I rest my forehead against his. It's quiet for a while, only the sound of our breathing filling the air.

I love him, I really do. He understands that conversation isn't my strong suit, so he lets me lie there in silence. He understands that I don't need verbal reassurance; I just need him there. Always.

After a while he falls back asleep, leaving me to stare into the soft skin of his eyelids. I worm my way further into his embrace, my head finding a nook within his bent neck and chest. I press my lips to his shirt. Just being so close to him makes reality more manageable.

I wake up again, this time at a more reasonable hour. He's awake already. I can hear him downstairs with Finn and Prim. I walk into the bathroom and run a brush through my hair before braiding it straight down my back. I quickly run my fingertip across the spot where Clove's knife cut me. I can no longer see the scar, but I can feel the small bump where it would be had the capitol not rid me of my imperfections.

As soon as I open the door into the hallway, the familiar scent of cheese rolls greets me. I allow myself to smile - taking joy in the little things is necessary to my sanity – and I walk down the stairs. They don't even hear me come in, but then again, they never can. Years of hunting have trained me to walk quietly and quickly, it's a habit that is hard to break. Finn sees me in his peripherals and perks up, he gives me a toothy grin. "Mama!" I walk over and kiss him on the forehead, ruffling his hair as I pass him. I lean down and do the same to Prim, who is engrossed in a book. "Good morning," I murmur as Peeta gives me a quick peck. He rubs my arm and I give him a shy smile.

"Do I smell cheese rolls?" I ask, eyeing the pan cooling on the top of the oven. "Papa made them! He said they'd make you smile!" I look over at Finn and let out a soft laugh, "well it worked." I steal one from the pan and sit down across from Prim. "What are you reading, sweetie?" "Some book about herbs, I found it in the office." Peeta squeezes my shoulder, Prim, the original Prim, my beautiful sister, used to read that.

Peeta wipes his hands on his apron and grabs Finn and Prim's book-bags. "Come on, we're going to be late if we don't leave now." Finn jumps up, taking his plate to the sink he skips over to get his bag. He's still at that adorable stage where he looks forward to school. Prim closes her book, looking at it longingly as she takes her bag and her brother's hand. She's about to walk out the door when Peeta stops her. "Hey, you're forgetting something!" She rolls her eyes, trying to hide the smile on her face, and groans "Dad!" He grabs her and Finn in a big bear hug before sending them on their way.

Peeta's always been better at the whole father thing. He knows how to talk to them, how to relate. He knows how to act around them and how to comfort them. I, on the other hand, am still learning. After 9 years, there's still so much I have to learn about being a mother.

"You're so great with them." I smile sadly in Peeta's direction as he goes about cleaning the kitchen. "As are you." Peeta comes over and leans down to give me a kiss. "Not like you are," I retort. He shrugs, "and yet they still adore you, so obviously you're doing something right." I finish the last of my roll and walk over to where he's standing at the sink. I wrap my arms around him from behind, leaning my cheek against his shoulder. "Thank you for the rolls," I whisper. "What was it about last night?" I sigh, turning so that my forehead rests on his shoulder now. I speak into his shirt, but he can still hear my muffled words, "do you remember the quarter quell?" That's a stupid question, of course he remembers. He just nods. I continue, "for some reason I dreamt about your interview with Caesar." He turns around, wrapping his arms around my waist. "I'd rather you dream of that than the actual arena." He looks down at me. Those piercing blue eyes still make my heart stop, make me have to catch my breath. "All of your feelings then, they still apply now, right?" He let's out an exasperated sigh and nods, kissing me on my forehead. You'd think that after all this time, I'd be completely certain about his love. But the truth is, I'm not, and I'm not sure I'll ever be.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you going to hunt?" I shake my head, massaging a crick in the back of my neck. "No, I think I'm going to lay low today." Peeta nods, kneading a slab of dough on the counter. I'm still surprised by how much I love him. Even the littlest things he does, like knead dough, can bring on a flurry of emotions that stop me dead in my tracks. He always told me I never knew the effect I could have on people, but I don't think he quite understands what he's truly capable of either.

He senses me watching him from the doorway and he looks over his shoulder, flashing me a smile. "What's on your mind?" I shrug; I've never been able to verbalize my feelings like he can. Even now that we're married, I rarely say 'I love you' outright. That's not to say I don't show him how much I love him, but I'm not as verbal about it as he is.

"I love you, Katniss." See, even there. It's as if he knows me so well, he knows when I'm thinking about how much I love him. I smile at him for a moment before he goes back to kneading, and I retreat into the living room. I want to sit down on the couch, but Buttercup has stretched out so that there's only the smallest bit of room for me on the loveseat. "Up, up!" I swat at him, and he hisses up at me, his one eye narrowing as he catches sight of me. I roll my eyes and pick him up, ignoring his frenzied meows and flailing, and I drop him on the ground. He skulks off, no doubt imagining ways he can scratch me later.

I lay down, my head resting on the arm of the loveseat, and my eyes feel heavy. I didn't even know I was tired until this moment.

_I'm staring at the small screen, surrounded by different officials in District 13. My eyes are wide and my hands are shaking as I see the camera shifting to the side, and the blood spattering against the white tile. I feel like gagging. They're torturing him._

I awake to find Finn smiling and poking at me. I smile groggily and wrap my arms around his waist, pulling him on top of me. He giggles and I pull him close. "I lost a tooth today," he holds up a wad of paper towel that I assume is holding said tooth. "That's _amazing_!" I humor him, burying my face in his sandy blonde hair. "Did you learn anything today?" He shakes his head, completely engrossed in the tooth now lying in his open palm. "Well, that's a shame since that's the whole purpose of school." I look up and see Peeta leaning against the bookshelf. "Can I keep it?" Finn looks at Peeta and me, his face begging for permission. Peeta chuckles and walks over, "sure, why not?" Finn jumps off of the couch and out of my grasp and runs up to his room, presumably to hide it somewhere safe. "Where's Prim?" I ask, stretching my arms above my head to get out the kinks formed during my nap. "She's reading in the office." He comes closer and I sit up a little so he has room to sit down. When he does, I put my head in his lap, and he brushes the dark hair out of my eyes. "I must've slept for a few hours…" I say, half talking to myself. He makes a noise of agreement, "I took some rolls to Haymitch earlier." I angle my head so that I'm looking up at him, "how is he?" A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, "Drunk, as usual." "He needs the bottle, but I guess that's not much different than me needing you." Peeta leans down and kisses me, and I intertwine my fingers in his blonde hair, pulling him closer to me. When we release from the kiss, he gives me that same goofy look he gives me every time, almost as if he can't believe what just happened. "I need you too," he whispers, giving me another kiss.


	3. Chapter 3

"Prim," I peek my head in the door of the office and see her basking in the dull glow of the reading lamp. "Prim," I repeat, and she finally looks up. "You have a date with a sponge and soap, come on." She rolls her eyes, setting down her book and trudging over to me. "Stop moping, duck," I pet her hair as she walks past me. "Quack," she giggles, walking into the kitchen. I am left standing there for a few minutes. It always leaves me breathless, seeing the similarities between her and her namesake.

From the kitchen I can hear the happy sounds of my family laughing, and I realize that I want nothing more than to join them. I want to be able to laugh heartily and smile and actually mean those things. I want to be able to feel happiness and joy fully, but instead those feelings are muted, still shrouded in residual sadness from the horrors I've witnessed. "Ow, watch it! No soap near the eyes!" I can hear pots and pans clanging, and I close my eyes, a smile on my face. This is the closest I come to being truly happy, when I hear the sounds of my near perfect family, but still, I cannot muster enough strength to join them, to take part in the games they play.

"Goodnight, Mama." I clasp my fingers over the light switch, flipping it down as Finn finds the perfect position in which to fall asleep. "Goodnight, Finnick," I whisper as I close the door to his bedroom. I walk down the hall into Prim's room, and I see her sitting at her desk, still engrossed in the book. "It's time for bed, Prim," I say, jolting her out of her trance-like state. "But it's so early…" I look at her in warning, "Prim, it's 9, already a half hour past your bed time," she huffs, shutting the book and walking over to her bed. As she climbs into the covers, she frowns at me, "honestly, mama, I'm 9 now, I don't need a bedtime." I can't help but smile at her stubbornness. "Once you're 10, we'll talk. Goodnight, Prim." She hugs again, but I still hear the faintest "I love you," come from her room as I shut the door.

After showering and slipping into my pajamas, I come out of the bathroom to find Peeta already in bed, reading. "Hey," I say quietly, walking over to him. "Did Prim put up a fight?" I nod, and he smiles, "she's stubborn like her mother," I laugh softly, climbing into bed next to him and curling up against him. He absent-mindedly strokes my cheek as he continues reading. "Peeta," I say, my lips pressed against the cotton fabric of his shirt. "Hmm?" He says, putting down the book. I sit up and kiss him. He smiles and puts his book on the nightstand. He sinks down into the bed, and I angle myself so that I'm partially on top of him. He pulls me close to him and kisses me, one hand resting on my arm and the other on the small of my back. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and I move slightly so that I'm now lying on top of him, my legs straddling his hips. He looks at me, hesitantly, but I nod. Sometimes it's hard for me to be with him intimately, so while we do make love, it's not always the most common occurrence.

Taking the cue from my nod, he flips me over, and I let out a giggle – another uncommon occurrence. He pulls my shirt up slowly, taking time to kiss the patch of skin on my midriff. I tingle all over from his touch, and I lift my chest up a bit so that he can slide the shirt off of me. I prop myself up on my elbows and he kisses up my body until he reaches my lips. I let a soft moan escape, and that gives him all the confidence he needs to take control of the situation.

He pulls his shirt over his head, and then lies back down, pulling me close to him. Sometimes I love this more than the sex itself, just laying here, the electricity coursing through our bodies. I slip out of my pants and slide them to the foot of the bed, and he slips a hand underneath my underwear. I moan as his fingers make their way over to my clitoris. "Oh, Peeta," I say, already breathless. He continues to kiss me as his fingers work their way in and out of me. I breathe hard, my mouth slightly open, still pressed against his lips. I close my eyes, my chest moving up and down rapidly as I already arrive at the point of climax. I squeeze his arm as my hips jolt and pleasure runs through my veins. I open my eyes to see him looking at me – that same look as before, a look like he can't believe his luck. I kiss him and close my eyes, my hands blindly finding their way to his erection. I massage it through his pants and he moans. He quickly slides down his pants and then his briefs, and I slide down my underwear.

I look at him in desperation. At this point, I _need_ him. Animalistic passion takes over my usually morose self, and I transform into something I don't recognize. He leans me back on the bed and climbs on top of me, positioning himself so that he is lined up perfectly. He thrusts inside of me, and I stifle a moan. The only downside to our children is that we have to monitor how loud we get. He continues thrusting in and out, letting out a mixture of a soft moan and grunt, his face hovering right above mine. I kiss him and let my head fall back. He kisses my neck, and I bite my lip hard, my palms squeezing his shoulders as he continues to move with perfect rhythm.

After a few bit, I feel myself growing closer, and I allow myself a soft moan amongst my labored breaths. "I'm so close, Peeta," he kisses me roughly, "I'm close, too." I reach an orgasm first, my fingers digging into the skin on his back, my other hand gripping his firm butt. I stifle a scream as my hips buck against his. His breathing is fast and ragged, and just as soon as the first orgasm subsides, another one hits me, shaking my body. Midway through my second convulsion, I feel him release inside of me, and he lets out a grunt, slowing down. He props himself up on his elbows, still inside of me. I kiss him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I love you, " he whispers against my lips, and I nod, "I know." He is used to this response, and I think that he understands that this is all that I can give him most of the time. He takes a few moments to catch his breath, and moves over to the side of me. He pulls me close, kissing the top of my forehead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi, everyone. Thank you so, so much for the amazing reviews so far! It's always wonderful to get such positive feedback, and it's even better to know that people are actually interested in reading what I have to put out there! **

**I'm leaving on Friday to move up to college, so I may not update at all this upcoming week, but as soon as I'm settled in the dorm I'm going to get back to updating ASAP. I'm hitting a bit of a block right now, but hopefully I can soldier on through it and finish this story with an ending it deserves. **

**If there's any part of Katniss and Peeta's lives that you would like me to write about, just let me know. While this story seems like a series of vignettes looking into Katniss' life with Peeta and her two children, I'm still coming up with different events that can act as a catalyst for a climax or a realization of sorts. **

**Oh, and I'll definitely write another sex scene, because let's be honest, those are the most fun to write! Haha. **

**Thank you, again, for the amazing support and feedback! And again, let me know if there's anything in particular you want me to write about.**

**XO, **

**S **

That night I have a dreamless sleep. I never have nightmares after making love to Peeta, and for that reason alone you'd think it'd make me want to do it more, but the sad reality is that it's exhausting opening myself up like that to anyone, even if it is my Peeta.

He wakes at Dawn, an old habit from his days as a baker's son, and I can just barely hear the sounds of him working in the kitchen. I look over at the watch on his nightstand. _Tick tock._ I squeeze my eyes shut, pressing my fingers over them until I see stars. I hate clocks. I'll never be able to react normally to them.

Taking a deep breath, I hoist myself out of bed. Like I said, it's exhausting, opening myself up like I did last night, making myself vulnerable. I feel lethargic as I braid my hair and dress for the day.

Soundlessly, I walk into the kitchen and over to where he's standing. I wrap my arms around him and he tenses, for just the briefest moment, before he realizes it's me. I don't know if we'll ever truly leave the arena – physically, we're not there anymore, and he has masked his pain and perfected the art of moving on and throwing himself completely into our family, but there are still moments when we are on the balls of our feet, ready to attack if necessary. I wipe a smudge of flour off of his cheek; he looks at me like I'm the most wonderful thing he's ever seen. I don't deserve those looks; I don't deserve all of the love he gives me when I can only return a fraction of it. To this day, Haymitch still tells me that I can live a thousand lifetimes and still not deserve him.

I pull away and I see a flash of rejection in his eyes. I know he still has moments where he doesn't quite believe I'm going to stay. Even after the birth of our children, I think he sees me as a flight risk. I rub his arm, my way of being reassuring, and I think it works for now, because he turns back to sprinkling a pan with flour.

I go into the cupboard and retrieve a roll from yesterday. I make my way over to the kitchen table and I sit. Sometimes I just love to watch him work. "The boy with the bread," I say sotto voce. He turns his head a bit; I think he heard me mumbling, "hm?" He asks. I shake my head, "nothing." He looks at me for a moment, those piercing blue eyes almost like x-rays into my head. I'm scared, but just for a moment, that he can hear the inner dialogue going on within me. He shrugs and turns back around. I finish the cheese roll just as I hear Finn and Prim bounding down the stairs.

I feel arms wrap around my neck and I turn my head to find the toothy grin of my son in my eye line. I smile and I turn so that I'm hugging him. "Good morning," I say, as I kiss him on his nose. Prim is carrying Buttercup, petting him adoringly as he purrs. I squeeze Finn to keep from letting out a little cry; my voice catches in my throat as I see their bonding. The pain from seeing the similarities between my Prim, and my sister, is excruciating. "Mama?" Finn sees my face contort and he puts his palm on my cheek, a worried look on his face. Prim looks over and furrows her brow, "What's wrong?" Peeta sees Prim holding Buttercup and he quickly draws the attention away from me – we've told our children about their namesakes, but we haven't told them everything.

I never told Prim that her namesake, my sister, was killed at the hands of President Coin, burned alive while she looked right at me.

I never told Finn that his namesake died fighting for the world we live in now. I never told him of his gruesome death at the hands of the Muttations.

Instead, we told Prim that her aunt had a smile like sunshine, and all the kindness in the world. And we told Finn about the elder Finn's bravery, and also his amazing charm.

I snap out of my thoughts and become aware of Finn, still looking at me worried. "Don't worry," I brush some hair out of his eyes and kiss him on the nose again. This seems to relax him, and he gives me a large smile. "Go get something to eat," I smile back at him, and he pulls away to go get something for breakfast. Peeta is cooking some meat on the stove and the smell pulls me entirely back into reality. "Is that squirrel?" I ask, running my hand through Prim's hair as she sits next to me. He nods, "we're running low, though." "I'll go out and get some today," he turns to look at me, a reassuring smile on his face, "if you're up for it." I nod.

Prim holds on to Buttercup throughout the entire meal, even with Peeta and me trying to ask her to put him down. She loves that cat, though, more than anything. I French braid her hair, letting my fingers run through the soft strands. She closes her eyes, content, she loves when I braid her hair. Peeta stands up when it is time to go, and he grabs their book bags, like he does every morning. Prim stands up, setting Buttercup down on the floor, and walks over to her father. My voice catches in my throat as I see the back of his shirt sticking out of her skirt. "Prim," I motion for her to come to me and she does, "turn around." She looks at my curiously before obliging. I tuck her shirt back into her skirt and she smiles, "thanks, mama." She kisses me on the cheek and goes over to where Finn is waiting, anxious and excited for yet another day of school.


End file.
